


Aztec Gold

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 06:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10893414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Montezuma's hidden gold has long been a source of adventure and curiosity for treasure seekers and historians alike. Dean's company finally gets permission to explore the caves said to house the precious artifacts, but he quickly finds out that he's not the only one looking for the treasure.





	Aztec Gold

Dean and his brother worked for the MacLeod Historical Society. Dean was a hunter. Not of animals, of course – the thought of shooting a deer or even rabbit made his stomach flip. No, Dean hunted priceless treasures all around the world. Recently, Sam had dug up information on a story of Aztec gold buried under a small lake in a series of underwater caves in Kanab, Utah.

Supposedly, the Aztecs had brought the gold to Utah at the time the Spanish conquistadors were attempting to steal it from Montezuma – the Aztec ruler at the time.

Dean and Sam had done all the legwork. They received the proper permits and Dean had gone out of his way to learn about the critically endangered snail living in the lake – doing anything to disturb its habitat was grounds for not only a serious fine, but also losing his license as a treasure hunter.

The entire ordeal had taken nearly eight months of work, but it was finally time. On the way out of San Francisco, where the MacLeod headquarters were, Sam had pulled him aside and given him a warning. He’d heard from a friend that there would be someone else trying to get into the caves. Dean bristled at the mention of the name. Arthur Ketch.

 

Ketch was a treasure hunter in his own right. He worked for a company based in Britain, the Kendricks Institute. The problem with Ketch, and with Kendricks in general, was that more often than not they returned from their excavations empty handed, claiming not to have found anything, only to have the treasures turn up in various locations across the world in the possession of people who all told a very similar story: a friend of a friend found it on their property and it was given as a gift. No one could pin the illegal sales on Kendricks, but Dean knew it was them.

Dean had a run in with Ketch two years prior, while on a trail that may have led to the Ark of the Covenant. At least, he was until Ketch cold cocked him with a bar stool and left him on the side of the road nearly a hundred miles from where he was supposed to be. The Ark was never recovered by either party, though Dean wondered if it would show up in the hands of some unassuming Australian businessman someday.

 

Dean had just wormed his way out of the water into a damp tunnel running parallel to the water’s surface. It was completely blocked off from the outside. This was the only entrance he could find. He’d heard rumors of seeing underwater guardians – ghosts – blocking people from entering the cave entrance. Dean was used to ghost stories; all good treasures had a ghost or goblin protecting them. He hadn’t seen anything swimming his way in, and aside from the general creepy feeling of being watched, he’d had no issues like other divers had claimed.

Stripping out of his scuba gear and tucking it into the waterproof backpack he’d brought along, Dean snagged his helmet and flipped on the headlamp. He was just about to set out down the passage when a splash from the small entrance caught his attention. He turned around in time to see a hand shoot out of the water, prompting a startled shout from him.

Ketch appeared, hoisting himself out of the hole and shimmying on his ass away from it before flopping down on the ground at Dean’s feet.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

It took Ketch a moment to respond as he wrestled with his mouthpiece and goggles. He sucked in a deep breath of air and blinked up at Dean, squinting against the light.

“Care to stop blinding me?”

Dean pulled the helmet off and Ketch sat up, stuffing his gear into a similar bag to the one Dean had.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Because you know the answer, Mr. Winchester. I’m here for the same reason you are. Aztec gold.”

“Sure. You gotta knock me out again?” Dean snarked. Ketch sighed, looking up at him as he fiddled with the switch of his own headlamp.

“That was… A misunderstanding. Not to mention it was years ago. I didn’t expect you to be the type to hold a grudge.”

“You broke a bar stool over my head, tossed me into the damn desert and left me with a concussion. I think a grudge is applicable here.”

“I left you a way to radio for assistance.”

“You left me with a _concussion!_ ”

Pebbles skittered down around them when Dean shouted. Ketch looked up, scanning the ceiling.

“I’d keep your voice down. This entire structure looks ready to cave in.”

“Hopefully right on top of you,” Dean mumbled. He slammed his helmet back on and set off down the passage, keeping his beam trained on the ground a few yards in front of him. He could hear Ketch scrambling up following quickly after him. It wasn’t too long before a twin beam blended with his own, Ketch’s footfalls directly behind him.

“I don’t see why you don’t go home. I was here first.”

“Ah, but I arrived almost immediately after,” Ketch tried.

“I wanna put the gold where it belongs. In a museum.”

“And you think I don’t? That is my job as well, Dean.”

“Yeah, right. Your job is stealing precious treasures and selling them to the highest bidder. I know how your _business_ works, Ketch.”

“I’m offended, Mr. Winchester. I am an honest businessman.”

Dean whipped around, shining the beam in Ketch’s face. “You’re a damn dirty liar and a cheat. People like you are the reason we’re losing so many ancient artifacts and I hate you for it,” He snapped.

Ketch stepped forward, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. Dean looked down, trying to calm his breathing.

“Stop!” He shoved Ketch backwards hard, sending him spinning into the wall of tunnel.

The rumble started under their feet, echoing through the passage.

“Run!” Ketch shouted, taking off down the passage toward the water entrance. Dean chased after him, glancing back just in time to see rocks beginning to tumble around them.

The two couldn’t outrun nature, however, and the world went black for Dean when the rocks came down over him.

***

“Ugh…” Dean groaned as he came to, his arm throbbing dully in time with his heartbeats.

“You’re awake! Oh good, I was afraid the fall had killed you.”

Dean groaned again, blinking dust out of his eyes. A dull light filtered through the gloom, illuminating the dire situation. The top of the tunnel had caved, but the mountain itself was still standing, only one area had fallen through to allow the fading sunlight and fresh air into the passage.

“How long have we been here?”

“You were unconscious for four hours. It’s nearly six.”

Dean looked around, seeing the reason for the dull throb in his arm – a slab of stone had landed over the right side of his body, pinning his arm and leg firmly to the floor.

“How stuck are you?”

“My legs are pinned completely, I can’t get the stone to budge.”

“Fuck.”

“You?”

“My whole right side. Can you see if it’s the same rock? Maybe our combined strength can move it.”

Dean heard Ketch shuffling around, then the bright beam of a flashlight cut through the din. Particles of dust floated down.

“Two rocks.”

“Shit.” Dean sighed softly. “I don’t think there’s a single person on the face of the Earth that I have ever hated more than I hate you.”

“Really? Petty insults? Do you honestly think this is the time for that? Unless that sharp tongue of yours can cut us out of this predicament, I recommend _shutting up_ , Mr. Winchester.” Ketch shoved at the slab of rock pinning his hips to the ground again. As with the other ten times he’d tried, it didn’t budge, jammed against the opposite wall of the small crevice they were in.

A sprinkle of pebbles and dust rained down on his and Dean’s heads when Dean slammed his free fist against the wall.

“And now he tries to bring the already precarious cave tumbling down on us. _Clever_ thinking.”

“Would you shut your pie hole? It’s your fault we’re stuck here in the first place.”

“My fault? Pardon me, you useless brute – it was _you_ that shoved _me_ against the wall that caused the rockslide in the first place.”

“You were going to step on a snail.”

The silence in the cavern was palpable before Ketch roared,

“You caused a cave in over a fucking _snail!”_

More rocks tumbled loose, a smattering landing on Dean’s already aching face and stinging open wounds.

“What happened to being quiet, you idiot?”

“You—I can’t believe you, Winchester.”

“It was an ambersnail. They’re on the critically endangered species list.”

“It’s an _insect_.”

“Gastropod, actually.”

“What?”

“Snails aren’t insects. They’re gastropods. The difference—“

“I don’t give a mule’s ass what the difference is. You got us trapped in a cave in over a _snail_.”

“It’s a twenty-five thousand dollar fine if you’re caught hurting even one of them.”

“Like we’d be caught,” Ketch mumbled.

“You would. See, unlike you I applied for a license to investigate here.”  
“Sounds like you’d be getting the fine then.”

“No, I’d rat you out so fast. I don’t _like_ you, Ketch.”

“Yes, you’ve made that disturbingly clear.”

“We need to get out of here. How much food did you bring?”

“Just enough for the day, granola bars and such. You?”

“Same. At least we’ve got fresh air…” Dean wiggled as much as he could, crying out when the rock slipped a little further onto his arm. He managed to get his backpack up and off his free arm, resting for a moment.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing if there’s anything in my pack to wedge under the rock. If I can get my arm free I might be able to push it off my leg.”

Dean snagged his knife and began to saw at the strap of the backpack still attached to his pinned arm. It came loose and he shoved it down his body toward Ketch.

“You’ve got a better angle then I do.”

Ketch took it. “Willing to work with me now?”

“Just until we get out of here. Then I’m gonna drown you in the lake.”

Ketch chuckled, opening the backpack. He began to pull things out, placing them on the rock so Dean could see.

Dean could have cried when the pry bar came into view. “That. Thank God.”

“The weight limit on this won’t even begin to lift this rock,” Ketch argued. Dean snagged it from Ketch’s hand.

“It’ll do enough. I just need my arm free. The shoulder’s dislocated I think, but if I can put it back into place we can work on getting us both out of here.”

Ketch sighed softly. Dean glared at him. “Just shut up, okay?”

He twisted as well as he could, ignoring the grinding pain in his arm. He jammed the pry bar under the rock just above his head and shoulder. Gritting his teeth he began to push down with his free hand and tug away from the rock.

Ketch looked over, shedding some light on the situation with his headlamp. Dean shook his head a little, sweat dripping into his eyes.

“Dean, you’re just going to exhaust yourself.”

“I’ve almost… Ah!” Dean shouted in relief as his arm slipped free. He wiggled up into a half sitting position and held his shoulder.

“You did it!” Ketch said, shocked. Dean smirked.

“Told you I would.”

“How’s the arm?”

Dean shrugged with his left. “Hurts like a mother… Okay, I’m gonna need your help getting it back into place, we gotta get my leg out first. Then I can help get you out.”

Ketch snorted. “You’re going to get me out? Why not just leave me?”

“Don’t tempt me. I’d leave you if I didn’t have a conscience.” Dean threw the pry bar toward Ketch.

“Wedge it under the rock near my leg. And don’t _stab_ me.”

“Oh, if only,” Ketch mumbled. He grabbed the bar and leaned over as well as he could, using what leverage he could get to jam the bar under the rock still pinning Dean’s leg, near his knee. When it was stuck firm, Dean placed the boot of his free foot on the end.

“Bear down,” He said. He began to push with his foot. Ketch set his hands on the top of Dean’s boot, adding his strength to it. Dean groaned, letting go of his hurt arm to add his hand to the mix, veins bulging in his neck with the exertion.

The rock shifted first, and they redoubled their efforts.

Dean screamed in joy when his leg moved. He braced his hips and yanked, the prybar catching on the leg of his wetsuit. It ripped, but he was able to jerk his leg free, scrambling back from the rock as they let it go, another warning rumble echoing through the tunnel.

Ketch gave a cheer, letting his head fall back on the wall. “Thank God. Come here, I’ll help with your arm.”

“Don’t hurt me more,” Dean warned, crawling over to him.

“At this point I’d much rather you be entirely in working condition than more injured. I’d like to get out of here with my legs attached.”

Dean snorted. He turned his back to Ketch, the feeling of his warm hands somewhat comforting after the time spent on the cold floor of the cave.

“Ready?”

“Just do it.”

Ketch braced his hands for a moment before pushing on Dean’s back and yanking his shoulder at the same moment. Dean screamed into his good arm, biting down when the pain ripped through him, hot and stinging. He jerked away from Ketch, lying flat on the rock that he previously been pinning him.

“Fuck.”

“Is it back in?” Ketch asked, and Dean could have sworn he heard _concern_ in his voice.

“Oh it’s in. Hurts like a fucking bitch, but it’s in. Just gimme a second.”

“I have water in my bag, I didn’t notice an ice pack in yours, mine is at least cool. Here.” Ketch pushed his backpack toward Dean, who stared at him before grabbing it. He withdrew the water and took a drink, sighing contentedly.

“Would rather have whiskey,” He admitted. They both laughed a little.

“Perhaps when we get out of here, we should go for a drink.”

Dean passed the water bottle to Ketch. “We hate each other.”

“No, Mr. Winchester. You hate me. And for good reason, but I don’t hate you.”

“You—“

“I know. Left you unconscious. It wasn’t my intention. I had intended to work with you to find the Ark.”

“With me? Kendricks wouldn’t ever allow that.”

“I wasn’t aware of that at the time,” Ketch explained, shifting a little. His face twisted into discomfort when he tried to move his hips. “See, when I find an artifact, I do my job. I retrieve it and I return it to the Institute. It wasn’t until after my run in with you that I realized they were selling them.”

“What did you think they did?” Dean asked incredulously.

“I never asked. I assumed they loaned the items out to museums or schools for study. I didn’t come here as a Kendricks employee, Dean.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Personal interest.”

Dean snorted. “Sure.” He sat up, wiggling himself next to Ketch and grabbing the pry bar. “Money, you mean,” he said, beginning to wedge the bar next to Ketch’s leg.

“On the contrary. I had intended to bring the treasure – if I were to find it – to the museum in Salt Lake City. They’ve been trying to get a team down here for a few years but keep getting blocked.”

“Makes sense. It took Sam and me eight months, and I think that’s only because we were able to pay off anyone complaining. Plus the fact that I’m active with animal rights. Those snails keep holding people up.”

Ketch nodded. “Something does, I didn’t ask. They wanted discretion and they wanted speed. They mentioned someone was making the trek and insisted I follow him—You.”

“To what? Kill me?”

“Of course not. Convince you that the treasure deserves to remain in Utah, where it was laid to rest.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m calling bullshit. We get you outta here, you go on your way.”

Ketch shrugged noncommittally. Dean glared at him for a second before standing and stepping onto the pry bar. He balanced on it for a moment before bouncing his leg. The stone shifted and Ketch groaned.

“How bad are you hurt under there?”

“Not too badly,” Ketch said. “The stone is only pinning the meat of my thighs – the bulk of the weight is against the far wall. If we can lift it just an inch or two, I should be able to roll out.”

“Alright, help me out,” Dean instructed, bracing his back on the wall and giving the bar another bounce. Ketch pressed his hands down on Dean’s boot like he had before, straining as he pressed down as much as he could. The rock shifted again, a dry, grinding sound as it slid further down the far wall.

“Once more and we should be good,” Ketch said. Dean nodded and lifted his foot, dropping his full weight on the bar.

The pry bar bent in the middle, twisting to the right and sending Dean sprawling on his ass on the rubble. It raised the rock enough though, and Ketch was able to wiggle out as it slammed down on the ground.

Their eyes met for a second before they began to laugh – a scared, relieved sound from both of them.

Dean stood, helping Ketch stand after he made sure he had no major injuries. They brushed themselves off and Ketch sighed.

“Now go,” Dean said, the humor sliding from his face.

“Dean—“

“I helped you because I’m a nice guy. I still don’t like you.”

“Let me help you,” Ketch offered.

“How?”

“This entire tunnel is slowly falling apart. If you intend to continue – you may need assistance.”

“Yeah, I need assistance from you like I need a gun in my mouth. I don’t trust you, man.”

Ketch raised his hands. “Understandable. But please, give me a chance. Dean, I didn’t want to hurt you when we met those years back. I was under orders. It was before I really questioned anything. The more I’ve learned about Kendricks, and about you and what the McLeod Historical Society does – the more I realize that you may be the one that’s doing good for the world. I just want to help.”

“So what, we find the treasure, you take half and go your own way?”

“No, of course not. If we find the treasure we retrieve it and we go to your boss. Ask him if he’d be willing to loan or sell it to the Salt Lake Museum. They just want a piece of their history. They were willing to pay me a large sum to find it – I’m sure they would pay your boss as well.”

Dean sighed, leaning down to repack his bag and tie off the strap he had to cut.

Ketch stood silently, waiting for Dean’s response.

“Fine. Come on. Watch where you’re walking this time.”

“Yes, I will be sure to avoid any snails,” Ketch joked, earning a glare from Dean.

 

They walked in relative silence for a long time, marking the various passages they took and backtracking when they hit a dead end. Finally, Ketch cleared his throat.

“What got you into treasure hunting?”

“Always been into it, really,” Dean said, piling some rocks near a passage. “Me and my brother used to go hunt for buried treasure around our town. Never found anything, of course, but it was just kind of our thing. How about you?”

“Ah, my father was a historian. Instilled a sense of adventure in me.”

“Were you close with your family?” Dean asked. Ketch fell into step with him.

“Only for a few years. My mother died when I was twelve and my father began to go downhill afterwards. Soon I was shipped off to private school.”

“Sucks.”

Ketch shrugged a little. “And you? Family is good?”

“Couldn’t tell you. My mom died after Sammy was born, Dad tried his best but we ended up going to live with his brother, our Uncle Bobby. That guy did right by us.”

“My sympathies.”

Sam turned to glance at Ketch, surprised to see real emotion on his face.

“No big deal. Just how life goes. I think we’re getting close.”

“How can you tell?” Ketch asked, searching the passage they were in for any clues.”

“Just a feeling. Been doing this a long time.”

He began to walk a little faster, Ketch hurrying after him. They came to a wide passage, clearly manmade, with ancient Aztec symbols written along the border of it.

“This is it.”

“Ah – Can you feel it?” Ketch whispered, gazing up at the markings.

“Feel what?”

“The rush. The adrenaline. No one has seen this treasure in thousands of years – and here we are.”

Dean glanced over, smiling a little. “I guess so. Come on.”

They passed under the arch together, cutting a sharp left when the tunnel changed. It led them into a huge chamber. The floor of the chamber was littered with dusty gold pieces, clinking together each step they took into the room. A large stone cuauhxicalli in the shape of a jaguar sat in the center of the cavern, dotted with shining red and blue stones. It was surrounded by piles of gold and other precious metals, as well as various statues and tablets. Dean began to dig in his backpack, withdrawing a camera.

“This is…”

“Amazing,” Ketch agreed, withdrawing his own camera and beginning to take photos. They moved throughout the room, snapping pictures of the items, careful not to disturb anything too much.

When they’d circled around to the entrance once more, their gazes met. Dean smiled softly and Ketch returned it.

“May I confess something, Mr. Winchester?”

“Why not?”

Ketch looked around the room again. “I don’t want to disturb this area. It sounds silly – what we went through to get here, but—“

“It’s perfect. Untouched. It shouldn’t be moved,” Dean agreed. Ketch smiled widely.

“You agree?”

“I do. Crowley’s gonna be pissed though.”

“Perhaps.”

Dean chuckled a little. “But you know what—It’s worth it. The Aztecs did all this to protect it… We have the photographs, but it should be preserved here.”

Ketch crouched down, picking up two of the pieces of gold. He rubbed them with his thumb until they shone brightly under his headlamp and held one out to Dean.

“One token. The rest remains. Sometimes things happen for a reason.”

Dean smirked a little, grabbing it. He slid it into one of the inner zippered compartments of his backpack and nodded.

“Why don’t we go get that drink now? Maybe talk about convincing Crowley to sign you on.”

“Really?” Ketch’s eyebrows shot up.

Dean shrugged. “Sometimes things happen for a reason… And I don’t totally hate you anymore.”

“I’ve been forgiven for the bar stool?”

Dean laughed. “Not completely. But you’re getting there. Come on – try not to cause anymore rockslides,” he said as he began to walk back down the way they came.

Ketch chuckled, looking one last time at the treasure. “It was you that pushed me, Mr. Winchester,” He called, hurrying after the fading beam of Dean’s headlamp.

“And don’t you forget it!” Dean called back, his voice echoing through the cavern.


End file.
